Chapter 6 - The Mother’s Betrayal
In the high-security holding wing on the women's side of the detention center, Elena Sterling paced the length of her cell like a caged animal. Her designer coat had been confiscated during intake, replaced by a coarse grey jumpsuit that clashed horribly with her dyed blonde hair and heavy gold jewelry.
The cell door rattled as a guard unlocked it and pulled it open. "Visitor for you, Mrs. Sterling. Room four."
Elena’s heart leapt with foolish hope. "It’s Richard, isn't it? He’s found a way out. He’s hired a real attorney who’s getting us released."
"Just move," the guard said curtly, nudging her forward down the corridor.
When Elena entered the glass-partitioned visitor booth, she didn't see Richard. Instead, sitting on the other side of the reinforced glass with a calm, expressionless face was her estranged sister, Beatrice—a woman she hadn't spoken to in over a decade after looking down her nose at her modest lifestyle.
Elena sat down, picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver, and pressed it to her ear with trembling fingers. "Beatrice? What are you doing here? Did Richard send you?"
Beatrice looked at her sister through the smudged glass, her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and cold disdain. "No, Elena. Richard didn't send me. I came because the police department called our family emergency contact list. They wanted to know if anyone was going to pick up your personal belongings from the impound lot."
Elena clutched the phone tighter, her knuckles turning white. "You have to help me get out of here. This is insane! Clara set us up! That ungrateful little gold-digger manipulated the whole thing to steal Richard’s inheritance—"
"Stop it, Elena," Beatrice interrupted, her voice cutting through the glass like a knife. "I watched the news this morning. I saw the footage. I saw your son—my nephew, whom you raised to be a self-entitled monster—kick a wheelchair out from under a recovering woman with a broken ankle. And I saw you standing there filming it like you were shooting a reality TV show."
"We were just trying to secure our family's future!" Elena shrieked, tears of rage and humiliation spilling down her cheeks, ruining her mascara. "Clara didn't deserve those properties! She didn't work for them!"
"Those properties belonged to David Vance, a hardworking man who provided for his daughter legally and honorably," Beatrice said coldly. "You and Richard built your entire lifestyle on arrogance, debt, and the assumption that you could trample anyone who stood in your way. Well, you stepped on the wrong person this time."
"Are you going to leave me here?" Elena whispered, the terrifying reality of her isolation finally washing over her.
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"I’m leaving, Elena," Beatrice said softly, standing up and sliding her coat over her shoulders. "And when the trial starts, I’ll be sitting in the front row—not to support you, but to make sure the judge knows exactly what kind of toxic environment produced a criminal like my nephew. Goodbye."
"Beatrice! Wait! Don't leave me!" Elena screamed, banging her fists against the glass partition. The guards moved in instantly, pinning her arms back and guiding her away from the booth as she wept hysterically into the empty air.
